Dancing Lessons
by onedaytoday
Summary: Cassie is stressed about her upcoming coronation. She has a lot to learn in a short amount of time. This story takes place after the events in "Curse the Dawn" and "Family Affair."
1. Is That What You're Wearing?

**Warning! **

****SPOILER ALERT**** Chapter two of this fanfic will contain a minor spoiler for the Pritkin short story, _Shadowland_, that was briefly posted on Karen Chance's web site. This is assuming that I'm remembering the details of the short story correctly. If you don't want to take a chance that I'm right, STOP READING NOW!

**A/N: **I warned you guys. I'm trying to get all of my fanfics posted before June 7. All of the characters and their wonderful world belong to the amazing Karen Chance. I'm just happy I get to play with them from time to time. Feedback always welcome.

**Chapter 1**

**Is That What You're Wearing?**

I winced as Mircea's foot narrowly missed coming down on my little toe. Again. The same toe he had stepped on three waltz turns ago.

"Dulçeata, I am so sorry." Mircea's chocolate brown eyes held concern and a touch of frustration. In the last couple of weeks, I had come to accept his concern for me, but I was surprised that Mircea, chief diplomat and negotiator for the North American vampire senate, would actually let his frustration show, even if only a little bit. I hadn't thought I was a horrible dancer. When I was a kid, my very proper governess, Eugenie, had made sure I knew the basics. But apparently dancing around my room with Eugenie and Rafe, the closest person to a father I'd had, wasn't enough preparation. My dancing lesson with Mircea had been going on for almost half an hour, and I didn't think I had shown any signs of improvement.

"My lord, you do not need to apologize. It is the woman's fault when the man steps on the lady's foot."

"What!" I suddenly stopped, not sure I'd heard that correctly. It was only Mircea's vampire reflexes that avoided another collision. I turned to look at Casanova, my incubus/vampire dance instructor. "How do you figure? He's stepping on _my_ feet!"

"He is supposed to lead. This means the man steps first and the woman trusts him enough to step after. If you were doing it right, Lord Mircea's foot would touch the ground a moment before your own. So, if his foot is on the floor before yours, there is no way he can step on your clumsy—"

"Casanova! Enough!" Mircea's voice held the command of a first level master. Casanova glared at Cassie, but was silent. "Dulçeata, let us try again. You must relax and I promise it will come naturally to you."

I bit my lip and nodded. In two days I would be officially declared Pythia, chief seer of the supernatural community. If that wasn't bad enough, the ceremony was immediately followed by a reception that tradition demanded involve dancing. And not just any old type of dancing. Besides the waltz, I was expected to know two court dances from a couple of centuries ago that were still popular with some of the older vamps. And the Electric Slide. I shook my head and fought to keep a frown off my face. This job just kept getting better and better.

Mircea took my hand. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he whispered in my ear, "You will do fine." I bit my lip. If only it was that easy.

Once again we circled the dance floor in time to the violins coming out of the speakers hooked up to Casanova's iPod.

"I thought we had a training session scheduled." Pritkin's annoyed voice cut right through the violins. Once again I came to a sudden stop. Mircea solved the problem of stepping on my feet this time by sweeping me off them and into his arms.

"You'll have to do your macho running and punching some other day." Casanova waved a dismissive hand towards Pritkin. "She's so—" he glanced at Mircea before finishing, "improving and she has to keep practicing."

Pritkin scowled and looked like he was about say something, but stopped himself at my unspoken plea. I looked up at Mircea and sighed. Mircea had that faraway look on his face that I'd quickly grown to hate. High-level vampires could communicate with each other telepathically. It always made me feel a little left out.

"I'm sorry," he said as he set me back on my feet. "It's Senate business. I have to go. The Consul needs me."

He brushed a curl out of my eyes and drew me close. Mircea and I hadn't had many opportunities to be together lately. With the war and his responsibilities to the Senate and his vampire family, he was away most of the time. He'd finally agreed to my definition of dating, which meant when he was in town, sex wasn't our only activity. Actually, as his lips touched mine for a good-bye kiss, I was very aware that sex hadn't been one of our activities since we'd started dating.

I was also suddenly aware of Pritkin's eyes on me and slipped out of the circle of Mircea's arms. I don't know why I suddenly felt self-conscious. It wasn't news that Pritkin didn't like vampires. Mircea had been at the top of his do-not-like list even before all of the trouble with the _geis_. I hadn't had many private moments with Mircea lately, and I was determined Pritkin's disapproval wasn't going to ruin my mood.

"Do you know when you'll be back?" That came out a little more irritated than I wanted.

Mircea shook his head. "I do not." He kissed my hand. "I know we had planned on having dinner together, but this could take a while."

"Call me when you get back." God, that didn't sound desperate. I was so pathetic. "I'll be up late studying," I hurried to add.

That faraway look came back to his eyes, and I knew I no longer had his complete attention. "Of course, dulçeata." He surprised me when he turned to Pritkin as he was leaving. "Mage Pritkin, I trust you will not leave her too tired from your workout for her to finish her preparations for the ceremony."

"Of course," Pritkin said. I flinched at the sarcasm in his voice and hoped Mircea hadn't noticed it, too.

The two men in my life stared at each other like attack dogs on short leashes. I held my breath when Mircea's eyes flashed amber, but he only turned on his heel and left.

Damn it. It wasn't fair. The Consul had ruined the evening I had planned with Mircea and I still hadn't mastered the waltz. I'd saved learning it for last, because Casanova had assured me it was the easiest of the dances I was required to know.

"Are you planning on working out in that?" Pritkin was eyeing my outfit with narrowed eyes. Augustine wouldn't let my coronation gown out of his sight, but he'd insisted I practice moving around in a similar gown. I wore a white silk dress that clung to my body until just past my hips where it flared into an ocean of silk that swirled around me with every move. Between the dress and the spiked heels Casanova made sure I wore to my dance lessons, it was no wonder I was having trouble with the waltz.

"No! I'm sure Augustine has spelled this dress to report back to him every speck of dust I get on it."

He was silent for a moment, and I felt my skin start to prickle under his gaze. "I'll wait while you change."


	2. May I Have this Dance?

****SPOILER ALERT**** **This is the chapter that contains a minor spoiler about Casanova based on my memory of the short story, **_**Shadowland**_**. Go back now if you don't want to know!  
><strong>

**A/N: Less than a day to go before the release of **_**Hunt the Moon**_**! I hope to get one more chapter up before tomorrow, but all bets are off once I get my hands on a copy of HtM.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

**May I Have this Dance?**

"John knows how to waltz," the calm voice was Casanova's, only it wasn't. I turned to stare at him. It had to be Rian, Casanova's incubus. Or succubus. Or whatever. I still wasn't sure how all of that worked, but I did know that Casanova was never that calm.

"Right," I said, hands on my hips. What game were they playing? I wouldn't put it past Casanova to make Pritkin the butt of a joke, but I didn't think Rian would. "What's going on?"

Pritkin ignored me and turned to rummage in his duffel bag of horrors.

"John," the voice sounded like Casanova, only without his usual snarky overtones. This was definitely Rian. "The coronation is less than two days away. Cassie is close to mastering the waltz, but a little more practice would make all the difference."

"You're kidding, right?" I wasn't doing such a good job of hiding my disbelief because Pritkin turned around with a frown, two wooden practice swords in his hands.

"I can waltz." The words were clipped. He actually seemed more annoyed with me than Casanova or Rian or whomever had put them up to this.

I could feel my eyebrows crawling up my forehead in my best Mr. Spock impression. This I had to see. "Are we going to dance with the swords? You do know this is a _waltz_, not a Russian sword dance."

"Cute." Pritkin stalked across the waxed wooden floor to stand right in front of me. He handed me my practice sword as if it were a bouquet of flowers and executed a perfect court bow. I should know. Mircea had done a similar move a dozen times over the course of my dancing lessons. What I wasn't expecting was for Pritkin to do the move with a grace and bearing that rivaled Mircea's.

"Lady Cassandra, may I have this dance?"

I automatically dipped into the formal curtsey I'd been practicing for days. Eyes briefly glancing down, spine straight, leg slightly behind and to the side. I cradled my sword in my arm to avoid poking Pritkin's eyes out.

"Yes, you may." The formal words still felt stilted coming from my mouth. It wasn't only that I was saying them to Pritkin. The whole coronation thing loomed over me and I was feeling so not ready. I tried not to think about what came after. At this point, with the number of people who didn't want me to be Pythia and preferred me dead, I'd consider it a victory to live through the damn ceremony.

Pritkin took my hand and held it with the tips of his fingers. After an awkward pause, he turned expectantly towards Casanova. I didn't see the look on Pritkin's face, but at the vampire speed Casanova used to start the music playing again, I really didn't need to.

As the pulsing one, two, three rhythm of the violins filled the room, I stared expectantly at Pritkin. "Now what?"

"En garde!"

Shit. I snapped my sword into ready position. I knew he wasn't serious about dancing.

"Do not attack. Maintain your distance and practice your defensive moves."

I was aware that Casanova was muttering on the side, but when working a drill with Pritkin, I couldn't afford to pay attention to anything else. He pushed forward, and I mirrored his steps as I glided back. A quick feint to the side had me turning to stay facing him. Quick thrusts with his sword pushed me back across the floor. He tried to circle behind me. Expecting a trick, I focused on his chest. My old governess had not only tried to teach me to dance, she'd also tried to teach me to use a sword. She'd drilled it into me not to watch my opponent's weapon or his eyes, but to watch his center of mass. This is where you would see the sudden shift in direction that came right before the real attack.

And there it was. With a flurry of strikes, Pritkin drove me back against the mirrored wall of the training salle and pinned me there with his body.


	3. Not in These Shoes!

**A/N: All clear! We're pass the point of potential Shadowland spoilers.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

**Not in These Shoes!**

I twisted and squirmed, trying to get away. Pritkin only leaned harder against me and pinned my sword arm against the mirror.

"You shouldn't have let me cut off your escape route," he growled in my ear.

"You try maneuvering in these heels, on this floor! Seriously, if you were dressed like I am you wouldn't find it so easy."

Pritkin's gaze trailed down the length of me. I felt exposed in the low cut gown. The thin fabric looked beautiful twirling around on the dance floor, but I could feel the warmth of his hand against my waist as easily as if he was touching my bare skin. His eyes had turned a dark emerald by the time he looked back at my face. I wasn't sure if he was going to pull me closer or walk away, and I didn't think he knew either. I licked my lips and felt his sharp intake of breath. This was starting to get awkward.

We were frozen there until the music abruptly stopped.

He stepped back. I instantly missed his warmth. "When you're officially recognized as Pythia, you'll be spending a great deal more time in heels than in your trainers. You need to learn how to defend yourself no matter what you're wearing!"

I wanted to argue, but I knew he was right. The image of Agnes, dressed in fashionable but low heels and a lovely lilac dress, popped into my mind. She'd managed to save the timeline and hadn't even gotten dirty in the process. For the umpteenth time I wanted to moan about how I was so not right for this job.

"Well, thank you for the workout." I started to move away. "But I really do need to learn the waltz." Casanova was frowning at me. He didn't approve of Pritkin and today's fencing lesson hadn't helped.

"Do you know where Rafe is?" I'd already tried to get Casanova to practice with me, but he'd claimed he couldn't instruct and dance at the same time. I think he just didn't want me stepping on his feet.

I was stopped by a hand on my arm. "You don't need Rafe. I can help you."

"Mage Pritkin, really, you aren't helping. Cassie needs to take this seriously. The ceremonies are only a little more than a day away, and she has a long way to go."

Gee, thanks, Casanova. How do you really think I'm doing?

"I'll try to find Rafe." I looked back at Pritkin. "We can fence after the damn ceremony. "

"Put your sword down." His grip tightened on my arm as he tossed his sword aside. "I'll help you."

With a sigh I could hear across the room, Casanova started the music again.

This time Pritkin didn't waste time bowing. He pulled me to him in a perfect waltz hold. Well, almost perfect. We were a little closer than the proper hold Mircea had shown me was appropriate for dancing in public. I looked up to object, but something in Pritkin's dark eyes had me keeping my mouth shut.

"Dancing and fencing aren't so different. The woman's part is like the defensive drill we just did — make your opponent commit to an action first and stay out of the way."

We stood there for several moments. I tried to tune the rest of the world out and pay attention to the music, but the feel of Pritkin's strong arms around me was proving more distracting than it should have been.

"And ….one, two, three, … go!" Pritkin stepped forward, and I instinctively stepped back. It was a fast waltz, done in the original style. The older guests preferred it since they were around at the time the waltz was first danced. I had to work to keep up with Pritkin's steps.

"That's it," he nodded his head in approval. I felt my eyes narrow. Pritkin didn't give compliments. It had to be some sort of trick. I felt my body tighten as I focused all my attention on him. Everything else dropped out of my awareness. All I felt were his arms around me, the heat where his body touched mine. It was like one of our workout sessions, only not. My body wanted to melt against his, but I couldn't let down my guard.

The music sped up and we continued to spin around the floor of the training salle. Perfect waltz turns, one after another. I wanted to smile, but I didn't dare risk losing my focus. It wouldn't surprise me if he suddenly switched from dancing to attack mode, and I'd have to practice defending myself against knife attacks.

"Madre de Dios! She's doing it!" Casanova's voice was a distant sound. I caught a glimpse of Pritkin and me in the mirrors lining the walls. We looked like we knew what we were doing, the war mage in sweat pants that he wore like an officer's dress uniform, my white skirts twisting around us as we turned in time to the music.

"It's working!" I looked up into Pritkin's face. I couldn't help myself any longer and smiled. "We're waltzing!"

He nodded. There was no answering smile, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

The song ended. Pritkin and I were left standing in the middle of the dance floor. Before we could break apart, Casanova started another waltz playing.

"Again! You must keep working at it until it becomes second nature to you, as natural as breathing."

I glared at Casanova. Pritkin surprised me by siding with him. "He's right. It will become easier for you." He squeezed my hand. "All of it." And with that we were once again whirling about the room.

Pritkin's words surprised me, although I don't know why. We'd been working closely enough that he knew how hard I'd been trying to learn the skills I'd need in my new life as Pythia. As much as I was trying, it seemed most days nothing I did was quite good enough. But unlike Mircea, Pritkin never told me everything would be all right and dismiss my worries. If I whined, he just told me to work harder. Saying he believed my life would get easier was the biggest vote of confidence I'd ever had from him. From anyone, really.

"Thanks." I was smiling again. Somehow he'd known exactly the right thing to say to me. I relaxed in his arms. I was enjoying myself. The waltz would never be my favorite dance, but I'd remember this rare moment when I felt like I could actually handle my life.

Of course it couldn't last.


	4. Small Talk

**A/N: **Thanks for staying with me on this story.

I wrote this chapter the day before I got my greedy little hands on Hunt the Moon. The good news is that my ideas on Cassie's feelings about her upcoming coronation and some of her reactions to Pritkin were not too far off from the book. The bad news is that if you've read Hunt the Moon, you'll see that I really made the wrong call on my ending.

I considered rewriting this chapter, but since nothing much really happens in the entire story, it didn't seem worth it. It's really just a little timeout with Cassie and Pritkin. I hope you enjoy their last dance together. (Before Hel breaks loose, of course.)

**Chapter 4**

**Small Talk**

The song ended and another waltz started playing. At least this one was slower.

"Don't forget you must be able to carry on a conversation while you're dancing."

Casanova was seriously beginning to get on my nerves. Unfortunately, he was right. I knew I'd be expected to keep up my side of the small talk. Part of my preparation for the coronation and the reception was memorizing a ton of names, titles, and topics to avoid if I didn't want to trigger an international incident. I might as well get this over with.

"Commander Pritkin, I'm pleased you could join us tonight."

He formally inclined his head towards me. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Cassandra." After a brief hesitation, he continued. "But I'm retired. Commander is no longer my active title."

"Since when?"

"Since the Corps' ill-advised decision to start killing Pythias."

Oh. Good answer.

He'd given up so much to uphold his oath to me. What do you really say to that?

Um. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He pulled me a little closer. "We should try a real turn. Has Casanova taught you the moves?"

"Yes, but I..." I didn't get to finish before Pritkin changed his position. Okay, then. Looks like I was about to do a turn. He raised our joined hands and gave a tiny push to get me started. I'd only tried this a couple of times with Mircea. Needless to say, it hadn't gone well. I'd never been able to get the timing right to end up facing him after I spun under his arm.

Gritting my teeth, I counted out loud as I stepped into the six-beats of the turn. Pritkin tugged on my hand, and I knew I had to speed up. As I hurried to get into position, I stumbled slightly. He lifted me just off the ground and set me back down in time to the rhythm. We never lost our momentum, though I went a little breathless as his arm held me tight against his hard body.

"Again!" Pritkin barked. He was getting to be almost as bad as Casanova about this whole dancing thing. "Plan on making the turn in five steps so you can use the sixth to synch back up with me."

I counted to five and this time managed a complete turn. It was a little rough, but at least we flowed into the normal waltz moves without too much of a hitch.

My next turn was smoother. And the one after that was even better.

I was starting to enjoy a little too much the feel of Pritkin's arm as it came back around me at the end of a turn. He was gentle and strong at the same time. The combination was irresistible. Most of the time when he touched me it was to push me out of the way of something scary, or he was moving me around like a mannequin while trying to teach me some new self-defense technique. Gentle wasn't part of the equation.

Dancing reminded me of the last time he'd been gentle. He'd called it an emergency, and I'd been only too happy to call it that, too. But there were moments when I found myself thinking of that emergency. Of those callused fingers sliding along my bare flesh, the incredible sensations his talented mouth could produce in my body. I shivered.

"Cassie, are you all right?" Dark green eyes stared into mine. I saw enjoyment in their depths and something more.

This was getting dangerous. I blinked and tried not to look at his lips. It would be so easy to close the small gap between us. I was appalled at how badly I wanted to feel those lips on mine again. "Stop asking me that." Time for more small talk to distract me.

"Since when do you know how to dance?"

The sparkly went out of his eyes, and they became flat and cold. I tensed, afraid I'd triggered a self-defense lesson that would get him out of answering my question. I concentrated on the feel of his arm around me and watched for the slight shifts in body position that would warn me of a sudden change in direction. I hadn't realized how close our bodies were until I felt him draw away.

"Rian taught me before my wedding."

I was not expecting that answer. Or any answer, for that matter.

"Did you get to dance with her?" For some reason I had trouble saying with your wife. Pritkin seemed to know who I was talking about anyway.

"No." He abruptly changed direction. I was glad I hadn't let down my guard, or I would have stepped on his foot. "The day did not go as planned."

That was the understatement of the century.

His wedding was supposed to be the start of a normal life that had so not happened when he'd killed his bride on their wedding night.

We circled the dance floor in silence. His body was rigid under my hands.

I usually didn't have a problem talking to Pritkin. Okay, yelling at each other might be a better description of our communication style, but it was rarely this awkward between us. I couldn't take it any more.

"What do I call you now?"

"What?" He looked at me with a blank, hollow look in his eyes.

"Your official title? Are you still Mage Pritkin?"

"That's accurate." It took him a moment, but I could feel when his full attention returned to me. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite place - gratitude or tenderness or something else I didn't recognize. And then the song was ending and my body was cradled in his arms as he dipped me backwards.

"Or you could call me John."

Looking up into those dark eyes, I'm not sure what surprised me more. That he'd finally asked me to use his given name or the half smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.


End file.
